


The Sand Born

by Notsalony



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Anal, Anal Sex, Blow Job, Change of Fate, Dark God, Fate Bending, Forced Nudity, Godly Sperm, M/M, Masturbation, Nudity, OFC - Freeform, OMC - Freeform, Old God, Oral Sex, Other, Religious Masturbation, Religious Sex, Ritualistic Masturbation, Ritualistic Nudity, Ritualistic Sex, Selfcest, Sex God, Sex Magic, Sex Slave, Sexual Sacrifice, Strange God, Strange Magic, casual nudity, handjob, twist of fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 09:12:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notsalony/pseuds/Notsalony
Summary: The battle of Oberyn and the Mountain went completely differently.





	The Sand Born

**Author's Note:**

> You owe this to 5.

He won.   
  
The world seemed muted to his bloody ears.  He’d won.  He couldn’t believe it.  He’d known of course, in the middle of the battle he’d lost.  He had lost and there was no coming back from it.  But he stood bloody and deaf at the moment as everything in the world seemed stilled and lost to him.  He’d won.  He was still standing.  He was still drawing breath.   
  
A near decade of hunting the rapist who murdered his sister and murdered her whole family had come to a head with this trial by combat.  And he’d known he was going to die the second he went down on his back.  He’d known he was going to die as the meaty fists of his prey had tightened around his neck and then when the world had been blotted out sun that felt cold even now to him.  But… something had happened.   
  
“Oh thank the gods.” Someone ran up to him.  The only noise in the din of silence.  Arms wrapped around him, the only warmth in the cold light.  He was teetering on the edge of something.  Some dark place and he knew not what waited him if he tipped over.  But the hands moved him and there he was.  A blonde man in hues of blue looking him in the eyes.  “Can you hear me?” Oberyn nodded.  “Can you hear them?” His voice quiet and Oberyn shook his head no.  “Fuck.” He turned and said something, the words lost when they didn’t pertain to him. The King’s hand waved them off, giving them leave as they headed out towards the pavilion where the Crown’s Guard was undoing the dwarf’s cuffs, his pardon won.  Oberyn looked at his companion and he was talking to those who had cheered him on.  Nodding and words passed between them but nothing that Oberyn could clasp his mind on.   
  
“Come on.” Olyvar took him by the shoulder and guided him down to a part of the docks and through a hidden section when no one was looking.   
  
“where are we going?” Oberyn’s own voice was gone to him.  But he was pretty sure that he’d said them aloud.   
  
“We can’t return to my nest.  It’ll be crawling with guards to finish what the mountain did to you.” Olyvar took him instead to the lower city and kicked in a door.  His voice gone to the muted roar that seemed to swallow up everything.  He glanced around this grey place and wondered where they could be.  He’d not seen this part of the city before, so clearly it wasn’t somewhere where they would come looking for him readily.  A small woman in black robes came running and she seemed to argue with Olyvar but the door was shut and they were plunged deeper in darkness, before Olyvar’s warm touch guided him through the darkness deeper into the bedrock of the city till they came to what looked like a candle lit cave.  Everything was grey to Oberyn and he wasn’t sure why he was so fascinated with the flame.   
  
“Sit here.” Olyvar guided him to an altar in the center of the room.  “Remove your clothes.”   
  
“Sex, now?” Oberyn smiled, though just moving his face like that hurt.   
  
“No….” Olyvar blushed.  “We… we must finish what I started.” He glanced at the woman.   
  
“What you started?” Oberyn blinked.   
  
“I… I’ll explain when we’re done.  Please, undress my prince.” Olyvar had started tugging at his shirt, stopping when the woman spoke to him, but starting up as Oberyn finished undoing his shirt and armor and then his pants came off, leaving him in his glory before he was being laid back.  The woman muttered something at them.   
  
“I had to.  He was about to die.”  She glared and said something else to him.   
  
“Because…” He blushed, but by her motion Oberyn saw she wasn’t taking it as an actual answer.  But she went to ready something else that he couldn’t see.   
  
“What is going on…?”   
  
“This is going to hurt, but it’ll save your life.”   
  
“I’m fine…”   
  
“No…” Olyvar’s face went slack.  “You’re not.” He undid his own top, revealing marks of being strangled, and Oberyn could see in the light that there were wounds around his ears and eyes.   
  
“Wha….” And then it dawned on him.  “How?”   
  
“It’s a long story.  Just… relax.  And scream if you need to.” Olyvar sat on something, his body nude now as he took Oberyn’s arm.  “Because I’m going to be screaming a lot.” He was trying to still his breathing to control he panic in his voice, but as the only focus for Oberyn to hear it was quite loud to his ears.  He simple nodded as he clutched Olyvar’s arm and laid back.  The woman came into sight with a white hot needle in her hand.  She said something that looked like stay still.  And the last thing Oberyn knew was the heat of the needle entering beside his eye.   
  
“AH!” He sat up in the darkness, everything in a soft candle light glow of yellow and orange.  His body covered in a silk sheet, and no needles in him, but he could hear his own voice.   
  
“Ah, awake I see.” The woman crossed her arms.   
  
“Where am I?”   
  
“The temple of a forgotten God who all but left this world.  Only those of us who know his name know of these places.” She nodded to where Olyvar lay naked on a stretcher, wounds all over his body now.   
  
“What happened?”   
  
“My foolish brother fell in love with you.  And decided to use his gift and take your pain, all of your pain.  And when it became clear you’d die, he changed the fate of what should have happened by invoking our God’s name.  You won, but you were in a state of trying to slip into the death that you’d earned.  Reality trying to right itself.  My brother would have died too if he hadn’t made it back here with you.  I was able to solidify the effect.  The tide of history disrupted by the ripple of giving you a sharp dagger that you drove into the Mountain’s skull, removing him from the world forever, his body and soul now the property of our God.  His fate is removed forever now.  And in his absence there are shapes yet forming.”   
  
“You’re speaking non sense woman.” Oberyn only half understood the use of magic.  But knowing that it had been used to cheat his death made him want to check on the boy he’d grown to care about.   
  
“How is he?”   
  
“Dealing.” She rolled her eyes, walking over and putting a candle by him so that Oberyn could see the extent of the wounds.  He realized with a start it was every mark and scar he’d ever bore in his life.   
  
“Will he live?” Oberyn let himself feel the fear now.   
  
“Yes.  I’ve good.  I had to steal the mountain’s body.  Which took time.” She gestured to a body laying on another altar.  Naked and slowly growing scars.”   
  
“More magic?”   
  
“Yes.  I’m transferred your wounds to my brother and then from him to the corpse.  These are the wounds of a dead man, who cares if he dies twice.  My God will still eat him just the same.” She shrugged briskly before lighting candles around the Mountain’s ruined face, his eyes melting from his socket.   
  
“How….”   
  
“He’s experiencing the slow progress of how you died.”   
  
“But my eyes…”   
  
“He was to gouge them out, and crush your skull while telling you how he murdered your sister.  Now he is experiencing that for himself, slowly.  Trapped in that moment, as you, so that he will die your death and his own.” She picked up his wrist and touched at tattoo that seemed to glow softly.  “I’m trying up his fate so that it can’t escape.”   
  
“Are they likely to do that?” Oberyn felt like a child at school learning about the truth of the world.   
  
“History is laid out waiting on us to walk the steps we are meant to.  Sometimes we can step off the path, and introduce chaos into the order, but things will tighten back to the order of what they’re meant to.  My brother didn’t just step off the path, he tore an entire city’s worth of futures and fates apart by letting you kill one man who would have lived to die to live again only to murder at his mistress’ behest.  Now their lives will end in other ways.  And a man who was never meant to live now is in a city where he has shamed the nobles who rule it, and awakened their assassins and loosed their purse strings to ensure you meet your maker.  My brother can not survive in this city ever again because of his involvement with your rescue.” She glared at Oberyn.   
  
“He was Majordomo of the Brothel, his place of pride in his nest.  And now he is nothing here.  But fallout from your wake.  To be roasted by your pyre.”   
  
“How do we save him?”   
  
“You leave.  Both of you.  Your Child of the Sand made her escape, saving her for her future and fate.  If I were wise I’d send you far away from her and let her believe you were murdered…”   
  
“Why would I let her believe that…?” Oberyn looked at her.   
  
“So that she and her sand vipers all die the way they were supposed to and kill the people they’re supposed to kill.  She’s a dangerous woman and the fates swirl around her mind.” The woman smirked.   
  
“You relish their deaths?” He looked at her, realizing he knew nothing of her.   
  
“Death of players who move the plot of the world closer to what it needs, what _he_ needs… I relish them all.  My God is great, and he is terrible.  And he will rule this world and all the others after your gods are burned to ash and the mortals who worship them are less than dust.” She shrugged, walking out of the chamber.   
  
“Ignore her.” Olyvar’s voice was broken.   
  
“I think not.  One does not ignore a woman like that, unless he sleeps in armor…”   
  
“Fair assessment.” Olyvar tried to smile but his busted lip did him no favors.   
  
“You did magic for me.” Oberyn stroked Olyvar’s hair off of his cheek.   
  
“You were going to die.”   
  
“And yet I live and you wear my shame.” Oberyn turned him to look him in his eyes, both slightly swollen.   
  
“It’ll be gone in a bit.”   
  
“Did Little finger know?”   
  
“That I can take a bruising and heal faster than others… yes.” Olyvar looked away.   
  
“He sold you to men who liked to harm the flesh they paid for?”   
  
“My Lord was not one to lose on a marketable skill….” Olyvar smiled a weak but self deprecating smile, an old habit from his life in the service as a whore.  Oberyn studied his face and kissed the now bruised lip gently.   
  
“You will not know that life again.”   
  
“no… I won’t.” Olyvar looked lost.   
  
“I will take you with me.”   
  
“You will?”   
  
“Yes.” Oberyn gave him a smile before kissing him again, his hand landing on a wound on Olyvar’s outer thigh, where he’d once been stabbed.  “You took every wound…”   
  
“The pains of your life…. And your death.” He touched a scar that was fading on his head from where Oberyn’s skull should have been crushed.   
  
“You had magic this whole time?”   
  
“I don’t use it… not often…. Anyways.” He blushed.   
  
“Just when you can get away with it?” Oberyn smiled.   
  
“and when it matters.”   
  
“Your sister said you invoked your God’s name to do this?”   
  
“Yes…” He nodded, groaning as he tried to sit up and Oberyn laid him back down and inspected the wounds to make sure they were healing properly, noticing that as they faded from Olyvar’s flesh they bloomed on the flesh of the Mountain.  “You happy?”   
  
“To be alive, yes.”   
  
“To see him dead.” Olyvar clarified.   
  
“Yes.” Oberyn nodded, turning back to Olyvar’s bed and sitting beside him.  “But I do not like seeing you injured to achieve it.  This brings me no pleasure.” He stroked his hand down Olyvar’s body.   
  
“I’m glad, _my prince_.” Olyvar smiled a little easier.   
  
“Rest.  I’ll make inquiries about our escape.”   
  
“Trust no one outside of my sister.  She knows the safest people to speak to.”   
  
“She wishes I had died in the ring.” Oberyn gave him a pointed look.   
  
“That is true, but she fears the change of the paths that we’re meant to walk.”   
  
“And you?  What were you meant for?”   
  
“I would have been made to bring a great house to its knees and end their rule.  The wheel will be broken.” Olyvar sat up easier.  “But now… I don’t know.  I have not… _communed_ with my God yet.”   
  
“You’re God shows you these things?”   
  
“Yes.” Olyvar nodded.   
  
“Interesting.  I have met many holy men and men who were faithful, but I know of none that had actually be shown truth by their Gods.  I’m pretty impressed by what your God has to offer.”   
  
“He is an exacting God.” Olyvar sighed.  “But we do his bidding on this side of the vale.”   
  
“And you want his return?”   
  
“Maybe.  I want a great deal of things I may never get.’ Olyvar’s eyes roamed Oberyn’s face.   
  
‘Oh, you’ll get a great deal of things.” Oberyn pulled him in for a kiss, his hand cupping Olyvar’s hardening member as he gently stroked him to full hardness before leaning down and capturing the swollen tip in his lips with a smirk, licking along the sensitive tip till Olyvar cried out in pleasure.  No words were said till after Oberyn had brought Olyvar to a very satisfying orgasm, a smile painted on his healed lips as he lay back on the cot.  “I’ll be back soon.”   
  
“Whatever you say _my prince_.” Olyvar smirked settling back for a well earned nap.   
  


***

  
  
“Your brother suggests I use your contacts.” Oberyn stood near the woman who was worrying a soup in a pot over an open flame in what might have been a very poor attempt at a hearth, he’d recovered his clothes from before and dressed before he came up.  Oberyn could see more of the shack like place they were in, the holes in the walls and the ceiling graining a faded light in the morning, at least he assumed it was morning by the level of light.   
  
“Not what you expected?” She glanced at him.   
  
“I was so out of it last night, everything was so grey…”   
  
“Straddling two worlds and two fates can be like that.” She shrugged, adding more herbs to the pot after taking a sip of it.   
  
“How did you stabilize me?”   
  
“I opened your eyes to the God.” She smirked.   
  
“The needle/”   
  
“Needles.” She corrected.  “One at the corner of each eye, one in your forehead and major points across your body.  And a spell that stimulated parts of you that you’ve never had stimulated before.” She smirked.   
  
“And what happened after that?”   
  
“You saw our God.” She tasted her soup again.  “But from the way you screamed I have a feeling you didn’t like what you saw.”   
  
“I don’t remember anything… I thought I passed out from the pain.”   
  
“Oh no.  You were awake for hours.” She smiled.  “Not that _he_ let you remember.”   
  
“Your God can erase the memory of his visage?”   
  
“Yes.  If he chooses he can remove your knowledge of everything that has to do with him, including my brother.”   
  
“That is an awesome power.”   
  
“Yes.  It is.” She sipped the soup and nodded to herself making sure that she pushed it back on the fire to a decent point.  “But, the question is, what has our God decided to do with you.” She eyed him.  “As every wound vanishes from my brother’s flesh, each tie to your old fate vanishes.  When he is healed, you will have no ties to your fate of an early grave.”   
  
“Do you know what my fate is now?”   
  
“That is not written or not revealed to me yet.  I fear our God may require my brother to commune to tell him what is yet to come.”   
  
“How does he commune?” Oberyn looked concerned.   
  
“In the most delicious way.” She smirked wickedly before reclining in her seat.  “He must take himself in hand and bring himself to release while reciting the spell.”   
  
“oh…” Oberyn’s eyes were a little wide.  He’d never thought of a religion that required masturbation before, but he could get behind that sort of thing if it was something that was a regular part of their religion.  “Are all your magics and communions sex based?” He smirked.   
  
“More than you’d imagine.” She smiled.   
  
“Tell me… would you have us go to another altar for your God?”   
  
“That’s not a bad idea.” She smirked.  “You wait till word has come that your paramour is dead before you return to Dorn, and you can bring a stable peace to the region that they’ll need.  But until that is done… I can send you to a place that is still.”   
  
“Still?”   
  
“No one is there to bother it, and the two of you can live out a nice happy time together while you wait out the turning of the wheel.”   
  
“More like the burning of the wheel from the sounds of what Olyvar told me.”   
  
“Sometimes the world needs a little shuffling.” She shrugged, dishing out three bowls of the soup.  “You go feed him, I’ll go inquire about getting you out of here.  As soon as he’s able, fuck him on the altar, and make him pleasure himself and commune.  He needs to talk to our God and you need him healed fast so that the assassins lose their chance to strike.”   
  
“Okay.” Oberyn takes the soup and went back down to find Olyvar sitting up stretching.  “I was told how you need to _reach_ your God.” Oberyn smiled as Olyvar’s face blushed slightly.  “Do you keep any oils or ointments down here?” He glanced around.   
  
“In the altar.” Olyvar hid his face a little.   
  
“Is there anything special I need to do to open the altar?”   
  
“Remove your clothes.  It must be done nude.”   
  
“I can do that.” Oberyn smiled his half smile as he undressed and left his clothing at his feet, before he began to run his bare hands over the altar, a small alcove opened for him and he pulled out a bottle of lube.  “On the altar.” He looked to Olyvar who seemed mostly healed now.  He blushed as he walked over to Oberyn and crawled up on the altar presenting his ass to his lover as Oberyn began to dip his finger in the oil and finger the would be priest as he worked him open.  “I’m to fuck you while you pleasure yourself.  I want to look at you while you commune with your God.” Oberyn groaned as he added another finger.   
  
“Fuck…” He panted, biting his lip.   
  
“That’s the idea.”   
  
“G-going to n-need more…” Olyvar panted.   
  
“Oh my dear boy, if there’s _one_ thing I know it’s how to open a boy for what I have between my thighs.” He smirked as he added another finger listening to Olyvar’s hiss and moan, he added more oil and brought a fourth finger into the boy, opening him wider earning him a needy groan.  He worked those fingers with a practiced skill before with drawling and crawling up on the altar and laying on his back and anointing his own manhood before he smacked it against Olyvar’s opening.  Pulling the boy down by the hips till he was seated on him fully.   
  
“god….” He cried out.   
  
“Not till you’re facing me.” Oberyn panted.   
  
“So good….” He groaned, turning while still fully on the Prince till he was facing his own manhood hard and dragging across Oberyn’s abs before resting heavy on his belly.  Olyvar took the oil and bathed his hand and his manhood in it before taking himself in hand and stroking his cock.  He closed his eyes, focusing on the words he’d learned as he had entered manhood.  Muttering the words of the watchers, the gatekeepers, and the guardians, making them all turn a blind eye to what he was doing as he opened a path inside his mind to the spot where his God lived inside him.   
  
“I open myself to thee oh Lord.  May this pleasure I bring myself please you as well…. May…” His eyes flew open, his eyes no longer human but something almost cosmic like looking at the night sky made manifest into a tangible thing.  Oberyn watched that look, that power ride the man he was fucking, feeling it slide across his skin and it was like something else was reaching through Olyvar to grasp him, yanking on his manhood and correcting his stroke to hit Olyvar’s prostate with every thrust.  He wasn’t in control, he could feel the greater force riding Olyvar’s body and his own and in the moment he remembered a vague image of a man shaped thing that had sat on a throne of black ichor and had held out a hand to him.   
  


***

  
  
Elsewhere in a place that seemed to be made of opalescent flames that formed semi solid shaped like a great temple, Olyvar sat nude supplicating himself before a giant black ichor throne where a dark figure sat naked on the fluid like chair.   
  
“ ** _You broke the bond child._** ”   
  
“I know master.  But I did it for love.”   
  
“ ** _A noble reason is no excuse to turn the tide of history against our goals._** ” The voice was like fire and thunder scraping across a dry land, searching for something to tear into and consume.   
  
“He’s a good man.”   
  
“ ** _He is a man._** ” The voice was scorching and made Olyvar cry out.   
  
“I love him.  Please my Lord.”   
  
“ ** _You offer me the soul of Gregor Clegane, The Mountain that Rides, Castellan of Harrenhal, Knight of Clegane’s Keep, Tywin Lannister’s Mad Dog, in place of Oberyn Martell, The Red Viper.  Do you know the damage this sacrifice has caused?_** ”   
  
“I know my Lord… I…”   
  
“ ** _I do not think you do._** ” Olyvar clutched tight on his body as the sound of his God’s voice burned at him.  “ ** _Witness._** ” Olyvar suddenly found himself sitting naked at the death of Oberyn, his bloody mess of a body laying on the stone as Gregor got up and left, only to die later and be brought back.  The rage that Oberyn’s death would bring from Dorn and the deaths that would end the bloodlines of the King of Dorn, and the Lannister’s as well.  How with the resurrected Mountain would help the Queen murder hundreds of thousands of people and how the deaths and havoc that would have not only splintered the wheel but ended the blood lines of Five of the Great houses, leaving only two houses that would ultimately join as one completely.  And in that moment the hero needed to stop the undead who corrupted the North would arise and strike them down.  “ ** _This is what was.  This is what you have wrought._** ”   
  
Olyvar found himself locked within the High Sparrow’s Keep, looking out from his cell he could see Cersei take the center of the room and raise her arms.   
  
“If I can not have this kingdom.  Then none shall.” She dropped her arms and loud explosions began.  Olyvar looked out the cell window and saw dragon’s fire that erupted in pillars of green fire, engulfing all the city moving towards them.   
  
“Stop this madness, in the name of the Gods I compel you!” The High Sparrow grasped The Mad Queen and shook her.   
  
“You do not understand… I don’t care.” She spit in his face, and had time to pull a dagger from one of the guards throwing it into the throat of the nun who had tortured her so deeply.  The woman lay gurgling in her blood as Cersei walked forward, crouching down on her bruised knee.  “I’m glad you lived to see this.” She smiled, leaning in and kissing her just as the entire temple was engulfed in fire and he felt his bones roast to ash.  He rose in the wake as ash, and watched as everyone in the city died.  And every ship in the harbor went up in flames, and lines of oil between each outer container of dragon’s fire causing it to burst and spread, roasting the fields, the live stock, the farms, the surrounding cities, on and on till there was nothing but a still burning flame for a week’s travel in all directions from King’s Landing.  The Mad Queen had ended them all   
  
“ ** _This is what you have brought.  The end of every house of the wheel save the two we needed, but the end of all the armies of man who could have stood in the wake of what was.  And if they ultimately did win, humanity’s knowledge was irrevocably reduced to nothingness forever.  You have turned our plan for survival to a burning crater, an everlasting monument to the death of humanity._** ”   
  
“M-my L-lord…” Olyvar lay on his side, his body healing from this future.  “W-what if we leave?”   
  
“ ** _Leave?_** ”   
  
“If Lord Oberyn and I leave the city, fake his death, and travel to one of the outer altars, live in the unmanned temples and avoid everything till the war, or after… would it change this?” He panted, looking up at his God who stood, the light finally illuminating him.  A large muscular man made of black flame, multiple knee length cocks hung from his join and four large ample breasts gleamed in the light.   
  
“ ** _You would walk away from all that you know and have ever known and your own path for this man?_** ”   
  
“If it saves our plans and brings about the cracking of the wheel, than yes.” Olyvar bowed his head.   
  
“ ** _Curious._** ” The God reached out his hand and the world went back to the way it was.  The plan would find references in his hand that would lead to the Tyrells being implicated and being ended by Cersei but only the temple burned.  “ ** _You may have found a correction to your actions._** ” The God reached out and found the temple where Oberyn and Olyvar were manning the temple, lighting a pyre and increasing his power from that far off place.  He watched as it called more to his temples, the cry coming forth to bring out those who were touched by his mark in their minds and loins.  Slowly the fires were lit and his temples brought back to working order.  Dozens of altars came to life and the God smiled.  “ ** _I approve._** ”   
  
“Thank you my Lord.” Olyvar bowed and prostrated himself before his God.   
  
“ ** _Return, with my blessing, and my boon._** ” He walked forward, and touched one of his mighty cocks to Olyvar’s lips, before spilling his seed on his chosen priest before the world seemed to splinter away from Olyvar.   
  


***

  
  
Olyvar opened his eyes, finally seeing as he finished, his orgasm ripped from his loins as he came all over Lord Oberyn’s face.  He blushed as he came long and hard, panting as Oberyn finished in him.  Their bodies united in pleasure that seemed to ripple out and cause the candles in the chamber to erupt in flames.  The power of the God here pouring out of them and their sexual act to flood the space with power.  Oberyn lay there shocked and unsure how to compose himself, he was pretty sure this was above and beyond what they had been attempting to elicit from this God.  Because this was the best sex he’d ever had, hands down.  He went up and kissed Olyvar on the lips, sharing Olyvar’s seed with him before falling back to pant.   
  
Olyvar panted and then went stock still, arching his back and opening his mouth, he reached into his own mouth and removed a crystal phial; at its heart a thick white fluid filled a large oval space.   
  
“What’s that?” Oberyn blinked, wiping cum from his face.   
  
“The boon of my God.” Olyvar looked at it in awe.   
  
“It looks like his seed….”   
  
“It is.” Olyvar blushed.   
  
“Naughty boy.  Did we just have a threeway with your God?”   
  
“yes….” Olyvar blushed.   
  
“Any news?”   
  
“We make a great set of quiet temple keepers.” Olyvar smiles.   
  
“I can see that.” Oberyn smiled as he worked his hips in slow motion, making Olyvar’s breath to catch in his throat.   
  
“T-that’s a dirty trick.” Olyvar smirked.   
  
“Yes it is.” Oberyn smirked.   
  
“So you’re fine with being a pair of lazy temple keepers?” The hope was palpable in his voice.   
  
“I think I can.  It beats being dead.  Where is this temple?”   
  
“A long way away from anything that’s going to effect the future.  Trying to minimize our ripple.” Olyvar blushed.   
  
“Then shall we explore it together?”   
  
“We’ll be together…”   
  
“No… I mean… as by husband.” Olyvar’s eyes went wide.  “Will you marry me?”   
  
“Are you proposing with your cock in my ass?”   
  
“Yes.  Yes I am.” Oberyn smirked wickedly, flexing his cock and making Olyvar’s eyes roll back a little.   
  
“If you want a serious answer you should r-really s-stop that….” Olyvar panted.   
  
“Is that a yes?” The Prince smirked.   
  
“Yes.” Olyvar kissed him deeply.   
  


***

  
  
Over the course of the weeks to come they would burn the body of The Mountain, giving the ashes to their God.  Then in the sight of a were wood tree they would be wed in one ceremony, and carefully they found a Dornish priest to perform that type of wedding, and finally Olyvar’s sister joined them before their God in the temple chamber and left them to consummate on the altar.  Once they had had their honeymoon, they found a boat and slipped away with some gold from Tirian who was more than happy to see them go under a banner of peace between them.  Not that he knew that they were in a way faking the good prince’s death in their passing.  They were navigating slowly away from King’s Landing, and slowly the traffic of other boats seemed to fall away.   
  
“Have you enjoyed setting up your temporary temple husband?” Oberyn padded into the chamber that Olyvar had set up as his temple on the boat.  Olyvar was naked sitting quietly meditating in the temple.   
  
“I was thinking about you.” Olyvar smacked his thigh with his hard cock.   
  
“Oh is this for me?” He smirked, laying down on the lush pillows to suck on Olyvar’s cock.  Swallowing it to the base as he hummed, Olyvar singing a hymn in a language that Oberyn couldn’t place but he’d learned to enjoy his husband’s singing in the evening.  He moved when he felt the silk robe he was wearing pulled from his body and he smiled brightly as he came up for a kiss with his husband.  In truth after they’d left the main shipping lanes and had mostly been to themselves, they’d given up wearing clothing.   
  
Not that the few guest they’d had and entertained had complained at their naked hosts, nor at the sex that came later from the pair of them.  They had traded with their neighbors and gotten snippets of news.  They’d heard about how the Lannisters had murdered the Dornish prince, the second born prince, but Dorn was attempting to stomach the insult of his death.  Knowing that his family knew he was dead had given Oberyn a strange sense of freedom.  Though it was a bitter sweet sense of freedom since he knew that ultimately his family line was to end, meaning his nephew and his own daughters were to know the cold embrace of death.  Though as the days wore on he found it was the idea that his nephew had to die that bothered him more than his own daughters.   
  
Olyvar had taught him to gaze into the pattern of the world and see the ways the pattern would play out.  He was by no means anywhere remotely close to Olyvar’s or his sister’s skill with it, but he’d seen enough to know that it was not a pleasant death awaiting his kin.  He’d been slowly plotting when an idea came to him earlier in the day.   
  
“Can we save Trystane?” He asked as he took his lips off his husband’s cock.   
  
“Your nephew?” Olyvar looked at him.   
  
“Yes…”   
  
“Saving you was an act of love and to stabilize it we have to… fuck.” Olyvar moaned.   
  
“I play dirty.” Oberyn smirked, smacking Olyvar’s cock on his tongue again.  Smirking with his mouth open as he worshipped his husband’s manhood.   
  
“I’m not sure we can do that….” Olyvar panted.   
  
“I’m fine if you want to fuck him… or be fucked by him… two princes… for the price of one?” He ended his question with a swirl of his tongue around the swollen head.   
  
“You’d… be fine with sharing me?” Olyvar blushed.   
  
“You know I’m a ravenous whore myself.” Oberyn kissed the tip.  “And while I love you and want to be with you for the rest of my life, I understand that we’ll likely be sleeping with more than just each other.” He shrugged.  “Besides… doesn’t your God feed on the energy of love made in his temple?”   
  
“Yes…” Olyvar hedged.   
  
“Then let us hold a grand orgy at the temple that has lain dormant for far too long… really light the fires.” Oberyn smiled, kissing Olyvar’s swollen tip again before capturing it in his mouth, swallowing around him till he had the tip in his throat.   
  
“I… w-we…. F-fine…. FUCK…” Olyvar panted, swallowing as he struggled to focus his thoughts.  “If ….”   
  
“If?”   
  
“If I can create a way to save his fate, he has to take the opening.”   
  
“You’ll make an opening for him?” Oberyn smiled.   
  
“Yes.” Olyvar kissed him and took the hand to be pulled up to his feet, his hand automatically going to hold Olyvar’s groin as he pulled him into a kiss his other hand gripping Olyvar’s ass.   
  
“Why don’t you fuck me over your alter and raise the energy for your God.” Oberyn smirked.   
  
“Y-yes please.” Olyvar nodded, scooping up the oil he’d been slowly masturbating with for the last couple hours and followed his husband to the altar where he bent over it, presenting his glorious ass to him.  Smirking he smacked his hand down on it.   
  
_Smack._   
  
“Someone’s in a good mood.” Oberyn smirked   
  
“Absolutely.” Olyvar crouched down and leaned in dribbling the oil between Oberyn’s cheeks before leaning in and licking across his taunt hole, nipping and kissing it before making out with Oberyn’s naked opening.  Devouring the hole, he began to add fingers alongside his tongue, stretching open his love.  He didn’t often get this pleasure but he did fall back on his training in the temple and the brothel to help him make it as pleasurable as he could.   
  
Soon Oberyn was making a noise from the back of his throat that indicated that he was done with the preliminaries.  And soon enough he was looking over his shoulder at Olyvar with a hungry look that screamed of how he wanted ravished.  He didn’t have to say anything, the look spoke volumes and Olyvar smirked.   
  
“Ready then?”   
  
“Yes.” Oberyn’s voice broke slightly with the weight of his pleasure.   
  
“Oh.  I do believe I need to do something about that.” He smirked.   
  
“Don’t be coy.”   
  
“No, never coy.” He chuckled as he stood up, his hand resting on Oberyn’s ass as he pulled him back to kiss him and then parted as he oiled himself up and smacked his cock against the tight puckered hole earning a groan from his lover’s lips before he plunged half his length into him in one fluid go.   
  
“Fuck… in a little bit of a rush?”   
  
“I thought you were the one in a rush.” Olyvar chuckled.   
  
“Not _that_ in a rush.” Oberyn chuckled.   
  
“I’ll be gentle.”   
  
“Words I should be using on you next time I think.” Oberyn gave a dark chuckle.   
  
“Oh you think I ever want it _gentle_?” Olyvar smirked.   
  
“No… you like to ride the dragon as hard as I can give it to you.”   
  
“Always.” Olyvar slammed half of himself inside of Oberyn and pulled back to the tip.  “Don’t you like it that way too?”   
  
“Sometimes.  Sometimes I like it soft and gentle.”   
  
“At least at the start?’   
  
“At the start.” He smiled.  “And a few times between.”   
  
“S-sounds lovely.” Olyvar panted; his stride and stroke matching as he fucked his beloved.   
  
“Maybe I’ll show you.” Oberyn groaned, his body moving back to meet every thrust of Olyvar’s body before he crawled atop the altar, pulling Olyvar with him, before he reached back and used Olyvar to flip himself on his back, his thighs going around Olyvar’s body.   
  
“Someone wanted it deeper.”   
  
“Always.  Now stop long dicking me and fuck my brains out.” Oberyn reached up and pulled Olyvar’s forehead to his own before pulling him in for a kiss.  They parted with a groan and Oberyn gripped Olyvar’s neck.  With a groan the chamber filled with the sound of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh rocking in time to the drift of the boat till nature took its course and with a moan Olyvar spilled his seed in his husband.  A smile on his lips as he came both of them basking in the glow of the magic as it spread across their bodies and filled the altar.  An unspoken spell fueled by the sacrifice of the wanton flesh.   
  
A dominate man spreading his love for his usually submissive partner.  Their God looked favorably on this most hallowed of sacrifices.  And from his throne of black ichor he stretched for his hand and a flame erupted.  While they were busy sailing the sea and heading towards their new home other agents were moving.   
  
In Dorn a young man was washing an altar in his family’s temple, a place they’d long since buried to keep secret, the runes set within the altar burst to life and his eyes clouded over as images filled his mind.   
  
The Prince Trystane, the Sand Vipers, poison, spears, death.  And he wept for the prince and the end of a bloodline but there was something else.  A new image.  Images flooding his mind of what he was to do.  People he was to talk to and places he was to tread.  And as he fell to his knees before the altar, his eyes crying black tears, he knew where he must go.  He left the temple and found a blind whore and brought him down to the temple, giving him a night of ecstasy that he was never to forget, offering their sex on the altar to fuel it and the magic he must lay down.  When it was done, he gave the man food, wine, and coin, and set him in a nice place to sleep for the night before he gathered his things and left the temple, hiding the doors behind him as he left.  If he was lucky he’d return and have what his God demanded of him.   
  


***

  
  
Later, weeks later, on the boat given to the Princess of Westeros, where she lay dead and the Sand Vipers readied to strike down the Prince, to ensure that Dorn was their place of power, several unlikely events occurred.   
  
The dagger of the Viper who would have sliced the Prince, snapped sending the poisoned blade clattering to her feet.   
  
The spear of the next, splintered without cause as she readied it against the floor, leaving her holding only air as the Prince was shoved back at her.  And as they went to strike, a young man fell from the roof of the boat and quickly blew into his palm as he spun around the prince.  A black powder springing up and the attackers falling unconscious where they stood, forming a circle around the two men.   
  
“I don’t understand.” Trystane was confused.   
  
“You were not meant to understand.” He took one of the guards that he’d killed and sliced off one of the Prince’s locks of hair.   
  
“What…”   
  
“Ssh.” He quickly poured a thick white substance from a flask and used it to join the Prince’s hair to that of the guard, instantly his body changed to that of the Prince.   
  
“What sorcery…”   
  
“The best kind.  Now take your clothes off.”   
  
“I…”   
  
“We do not have a lot of time.” The Prince disrobed, saving his dignity by covering himself with his hands.  But moments later the Guard was stripped of his armor revealing a perfect copy of the naked Prince laying on the floor of the boat.  He gawked at his own nudity and could not fathom how he was to be laying there and how he was to be standing here.  The man quickly handed him the armor and he dressed himself and then using the same fluid attached another lock of hair to his head, transforming him into the guard’s body.  He told him to go out on the deck, and take the guard’s post.  When the man knew the Prince was gone he pulled a red powder out of his belt and poured it on the corpse and the Sand Vipers.   
  
“I offer my lust and fruit of my loins to my God for seven months, may what lay between my legs only serve him.” The man cupped himself as he spoke words in an older tongue.  The room swam in light and color and he left the room, slipping into his hiding spot before the room rewound and as the Vipers struck the now living guard shaped as the Prince, who was confused and unable to protect himself, falling back on the spear through his head, they gloated at their prize and told the guards to take the boat back to Dorn.  They obeyed.  The man was not seen again, till they docked, at the Guard walked the port watching the sunset, confused and sorrowful at the loss of his would be bride.   
  
“Are you prepared to live the life of one who is dead?” He turned to see the stranger standing there.   
  
“Who are you?”   
  
“One who was tasked with saving your life and changing the courses of multiple fates.”   
  
“My bride to be…”   
  
“Her death was not paid for.  And the sins her mother and uncle wrought in bringing her into this world, marked her with a dark cloud but she would have risen above that here if it were not for her mother’s venom that sucked the marrow from many man’s bones.” He lead the guard to another ship and quickly they set sale.  Only once they were at sea did he bathe the naked guard, the potion that attached his lock of hair to the Prince washing way and revealing the naked Prince.   
  
“How did you do that?”   
  
“Magic.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
“Because it was asked of me.  I will return to my temple in do time.  But for now, my God has bid me to take you to a safe place where you may survive and the damage that is coming to the world will sweep clean much of the world, and when that is over, and the time to rebuild is at hand, you will sit upon your father’s throne and you will bring peace back to this land.”   
  
“You really believe that?”   
  
“I know it.” He smirked, grasping the young Prince’s cock.  “As surely as your cock will firm from my hand and mine shall not for more than a year.”   
  
“You were injured?” He glanced at the man, barely older than he was, trying to detect even the faintest flaw.   
  
“No, not in the manner of which you are thinking.” He smiled.  “I sacrificed my ability to use what lay between my thighs for seven months, the sacrifice of my release payment for changing time and memory and weaving you out of the story so that you could survive.”   
  
“Why would you do that for me?” The Prince marveled at the man, seeing the strange beauty of him.   
  
“Because your Uncle Prince Oberyn paid a heavy price with his husband, asking us to save you.” He smiled.   
  
“He was not married… he…”   
  
“He did not die as you did not die.  Yet you are dead as he is dead.”   
  
“He’s alive.”   
  
“And married.”   
  
“Take me to him!” The Prince stood up in all his glory.   
  
“Oh, I will.  But it is several weeks at sea, and we will need much _protection_ and _favor_ if we are to remain hidden.”   
  
“What are you talking about?” The Prince frowned, confused.   
  
“My god requires sacrifices…. Those of the flesh and pleasure of the flesh.  To fuel the magics that he has given us.  And as I gave up my ability to do this for several months…”   
  
“You need me to give so that you may ask his hiding for us?” Trystane understood.  “B-but I’ve never… with a man…” He blushed.   
  
“Have you with your own hand?”   
  
“Yes…” Trystane blushed.   
  
“Then you have been with a man as much as you need be for this.” He produced bathing oil and offered it to the Prince.  “Lay back in your bath and touch yourself in front of me.  Bring unimaginable pleasure to your flesh the way you have done before when you were alone or with your slaves.  Do this in the sight of me and my God and he will take your pleasure and fuel our cloaking spells so that we will go unseen.”  
“And this is all your God asks of me?”   
  
“No.  You will have to do this often, and you will wear nothing but these runic bands about thy wrists and ankles, kept naked like a slave boy, with no shame or privacy.  And if any ask to watch your pleasure on our journey, you will give them a grand show.”   
  
“You ask too much of me.” He blushed.   
  
“You say that with your lips, but other parts of you say that you delight in this plan.” He poured the oil down the Prince’s hard shaft.  “Hurry young Prince, you have much seed to spill and not a lot of time to do it in.”   
  
“Yes master.”   
  
“Be quick young Prince, and may your hand fly across thy scepter with grace and pleasure.” He smirked as he watched in the candle light, the Prince’s eyes on him, drawn to him and the fire and himself as he brought himself off in front of the stranger, never questioning that the chamber to the boat lay open and the windows uncovered so that his nude body was bathed in candle light for all those floating on their own boats to see as he arched his back, his hair falling back as he came, his mouth open in shock and awe as he spilled his seed, which the young master was quick to collect in a jar.  Placing the spent essence of the Prince on the altar and painting runes around it.   
  
“I…”   
  
“Yes?”   
  
“Why does your God require my release?”   
  
“Because while other gods may find power in the blood of royals.  My God can taste that self same power ten-fold in their seed.  For the seed of one of noble birth contains the life blood of thousands of would be nobles who will never be now.  You could have planted thousands of babies in the bellies of a thousand slaves with the release you offered.  And instead of growing to be a thousand nobles with their noble blood, their very essence is being offered up for our survival.” He smirked.  “So let the lesser gods have their blood leached from the unwilling offerings for scraps of power.  I much prefer my God’s ways.  Don’t you?”   
  
“yes master.” The Prince bowed his head, collecting his own towel to dry off from his bath, though he knew he would not be allowed to keep it to cover himself.  He had much magic to pay for before this journey would be done.

**Author's Note:**

> just a note here... I’ve never read the books, and I’m behind on the show. And am put off by Mr. Martin’s attitude towards fan fiction.


End file.
